The first time that I had a panic attack was on a day in June of 2004, in Nijmegen the Netherlands.
I don't remember the date, but somewhere I still have the house-doctor's bill. I thought I was having a heart-attack. No, said the doctor; your heart and lungs are all fine.
Kim and I had been out to her mothers for a visit. While there, she told her mom that we had decided to be "just friends."
Now, early April 2006, I have experienced a series of panic episodes. In the last couple of weeks, almost daily. It's been quite overbearing, and I find the anticipation of the experiences is affecting my decisions. I've decided, at least tentatively, to forgo a weekend trip with housemates to Glasgow because I'm afraid.